


He Doesn't Know How He Got Here

by phoenixyfriend



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Catholic Steve Rogers, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Interracial Relationship, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mentions of Antisemitism, Mentions of Racism, Mentions of homophobia, Multi, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mentions of misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixyfriend/pseuds/phoenixyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But he's pretty sure he likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Doesn't Know How He Got Here

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble about polyamory with both romantic and platonic relationships involved.
> 
> This fic involves some musing on Bucky's part on how people would receive his relationships in the forties (and now). This means mentions of racism, anti-semitism, misogyny, and homophobia. Granted, things haven't changed much since his time, but you've been warned.

Bucky isn’t sure how he ever made it to this point. He should be dead by now, a dozen times over at least, and yet.

And yet.

It’s a strange situation, to be sure. Would have been a scandal back when he was a kid. Still is, to be honest, but it’s not as bad as it could be. There are a lot of people watching his every move (because he’s _famous_ , now, even if Stevie’s still got the country all starry-eyed), but they whisper and mock; they don’t spit or attack, which is more than what would have happened when he was a kid.

There’s a little something to irritate all the old grannies he knew way back when, a few ticks for every person.

They’d whisper if they saw him and Stevie, with the soft kisses and the warm hands and the public cuddles. Not just two men, no, but a Jew and a Catholic? Now that just wouldn’t do, not at all.

They’d purse their lips at him and Tasha, with the blood on both their hands and the rough sex and the hard nights. Russians and Poles were both Slavs, really, so it wasn’t _that_ much of a mix, even if Bucky was technically Ashkenazi, but a woman wasn’t supposed to be embroiled in such dirty work, never. That Bucky let his woman (like Tasha would ever let anyone call her that) earn her share of the bacon with the skin off her knuckles and the gun in her fingers just wasn’t proper.

They’d glare at Tasha and Sam, with the freeing laughter and impromptu dances and the arm wrestling. A black man and a white woman, they’d say? Preposterous! Someone would have to bring her to her senses, of course.

They’d sneer at Sam and Stevie. Oh, but the army did strange things to those boys; they turned into fairies, you know, without any women ‘round to raise their interests. To think they’d start _mingling_ between the races like that, though…

Tasha and Stevie would be the least controversial of any of them, even now, but they aren’t interested in each other the way they are in Bucky and Sam. And Bucky and Sam aren’t interested in each other either. That doesn’t stop Tasha and Steve from running missions together, though, or stop Bucky from tagging along after Sam when he goes to that veteran’s place.

Bucky thinks a lot about his life now. He’s allowed to, and that means a lot. It means a lot that he can think about he hasn’t been able to stop loving Stevie since they were just punks running around Brooklyn. It means a lot that he can think about how Natasha caught his eye when he first saw her, defrosted for a mission with a Black Widow, little more than a rookie herself but still almost as dangerous as him. It means a lot that he can think about how grateful he is for Sam being there for both of his lovers, even when the one they had to be protected from (had to _recover_ from) was Bucky himself.

It means a lot that Bucky can think about how he isn’t okay yet, but he’s getting better. It means a lot that he can choose to sit in an armchair in front of one of Stark’s fireplaces and just think.

“Something wrong, мой милый?” Natasha announces her presence, even though she doesn’t need to, just to make sure Bucky feels at ease. She knows what his mind is like, on the bad days. She slips up behind him and drapes herself across his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck and breathing deep. She’s the best at asking, the best at knowing when his darker moments are. They need some lighter days, the two of them (though what they have is still lighter than what they had).

“No. Nothing at all.” He says, and thinks that maybe he’ll take her dancing with Sam tomorrow.


End file.
